Chapter 12 #2
But then she says, “You can say no,” and she leans down to press a kiss to the top of my thigh before peering reassuringly back up at me.
And I know I can. I know she won’t be upset with me if I want to end things here. Even though I haven’t known her long at all, I know she isn’t ever going to pressure me.
It’s probably crazy how comfortable I already feel with her.
I don’t want to say no. So I nod, give her a shy smile, and say, “Yes. Please.”
She grins at me like I’ve offered her a million dollars rather than the permission to undress me.
Her eyes stay locked with mine as she slides the soft material of the dress over my hips and up the rest of my body, and I’m not sure if I remember how to breathe.
When she has to break eye contact so she can pull it over my head, I focus on taking a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
I’m not wearing a bra, which leaves me lying under her now in only a blue cotton thong. Her eyes rake over my body, and before I have time to feel self-conscious, she lets out a whispered, “Fuuuck.”
I don’t know what to say, so I reach for her and pull her back down to kiss me some more. As we make out, her fingertips skim down my stomach until they’re resting over my underwear. I thrust my hips up a little, and she bites my lip as she slides her hand farther down.
She’s rubbing her fingers over me now, and even with my underwear as a barrier, it feels amazing. I grab at her anywhere I can, needing to keep my hands on her to ground myself as I feel like I might float off the bed.
Keeping up the pressure of her hand, she drags her mouth from mine to kiss over the tops of my breasts. She uses her other hand to massage one as she grazes her teeth over my nipple. I gasp when she gently bites down on it, my hand tightening in her hair.
The heat builds and builds while she toys with me, sucking at my nipple and tracing firm circles over my clit.
I’m being too loud now, but I only have half a second to spare thinking about the other guests, because then she tugs my underwear down my thighs and sucks two fingers into her mouth, wetting them before she brings them back down between my legs.
“Oh my god, yes,” I whine out.
I can’t remember the last time someone made me come with only their fingers. Fuck, has anyone ever?
But I know it’s about to happen now. The orgasm building in me is like a train picking up speed as it steamrolls forward. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to.
“I—I’m—”
“You’re gorgeous,” Addison says, her fingers still confidently working magic on me. “And you’re funny, and you’re sweet, and you’re talented. Can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you like this.”
One of my hands has found its way under her shirt, and I scratch down her lower back, not knowing what else to do with myself as her words push me over the edge as effectively as her fingers.
I moan and shake and fall apart underneath her. And when I’m finished, her fingers ease up, but she continues touching me lightly as I regain control of my breathing.
When I become too sensitive, I reach down and nudge her hand away. And then we’re just lying here, looking at each other. The smile she gives me feels a bit teasing, but not in a bad way. She’s proud of herself. And she has every right to be.
Holy shit. Did that really happen?
When I invited her up here, I didn’t know what to expect. Honestly, I only knew I wanted to kiss her, and I knew we needed privacy to do that.
Does this count as having sex?
I feel silly, not entirely understanding how things work between two women. Hell, she didn’t even finger me. With a guy, I wouldn’t consider it sex. But then again, with a guy, I doubt I would’ve gotten off from it.
It was probably all the anticipation that did it. The buildup, the burning desire this woman ignites in me. The feeling of being set free.
As she runs her hand up and down my side, I decide it doesn’t matter what we call this. I had an orgasm with a woman—with this woman—and it was freaking incredible. I can’t even imagine how good it will be if we do something more.
Suddenly, it hits me that we didn’t do anything. She did it. She touched me and she made me come. I didn’t do anything for her.
Oh, wow, I’m an asshole. I need to do something for her too. I want to do something for her. I want to touch her, and explore, and hopefully make her feel half as good as she made me feel.
“I—”
I don’t know how to say any of this without sounding stupid. I don’t know the etiquette here. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in this situation with a man, because I don’t think a man has ever gotten me off without automatically expecting something in return.
And okay, that’s sort of depressing.
I reach for her tentatively. “Can I...”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” she says.
“But—” The sound of my stomach growling embarrassingly loudly cuts off my argument.
Addison laughs as I throw a hand over my face to hide, and she gently pulls it down. “You weren’t at dinner.”
“You noticed?” I ask without thinking. Then I worry that I sound too pleased with the fact that she was watching for me.
“Only because we need to keep tabs on the VIP guests, obviously,” she says, but I know she’s joking.
Pulling my underwear back into place, I tell her, “I guess I got lost in playing the piano and forgot to eat.”
“I can go down and heat something up for you.”
“Oh my gosh, no.” I shake my head. “You don’t have to do that.”
She sweeps a strand of hair behind my ear and leans in to press a brief kiss to my lips. “What if I want to?”
I don’t know what to say to that. I almost want to laugh at the fact that the woman who practically berated me for asking for syrup weeks ago is now lying in bed with me, offering to make me food long after the kitchen has closed. But I can tell she means it.
I’m glad she’s allowed me to see past her prickly exterior. She’s much softer underneath than she wants people to believe.
“I wouldn’t turn down some food right now,” I admit. “I’m kind of starving.”
Laughing, she says, “Yeah, I heard.”
“Shut up.”
I shove at her playfully, and she captures both my hands, pinning them to the mattress as she kisses me. To my disappointment, though, her tongue only slips into my mouth for a few seconds before she pulls away.
“I’ll be right back,” she tells me.
“I’ll be here.”
I can’t stop smiling as I watch her get out of bed and walk to the door. Once I’m alone in the room, I realize I’m still mostly naked, so I rush to put some clothes on before she gets back. I put my dress away and change into my silk pajama shorts and camisole top.
Sitting back on the bed to wait for her, I start fidgeting. I wasn’t nervous when we were fooling around, but now I am. And I don’t know why.
I guess because she’s going through the trouble of bringing dinner up to my room for me. And then what? Is she going to stay with me while I eat it? And after?
I’d like her to stay, but I have a feeling I’m going to be an awkward mess now, sitting and talking with her after she’s seen me naked. I also have no idea if she’ll even want to stick around.
What was this to her?
What was it to me?
It wasn’t some sort of lesbian experiment.
I’m sure of that. I didn’t do it just to see if I’d like it.
I did it because I’m attracted to her. Because I like her.
But it’s not like I can go ahead and start a relationship with her, right?
I need to go back to Nashville when my manager tells me to.
I need to go back to being the Riley Rowland that hundreds of thousands of people buy tickets to see on a stage.
There isn’t room in my life for a relationship with a woman who lives in Massachusetts. And it’s not like I can ask her to quit her job and come back with me.
God, I just met her. How can I even be imagining that scenario?
I need to chill.
By the time she comes back, even though she doesn’t take long, I’ve managed to work myself up into a mild panic. But then she smiles softly at me, and my brain quiets as I smile back at her.
“Do you wanna eat here”—she waves the plate she’s holding toward the small table on the side of the room—“or stay in bed?”
What I really want is to get her back in the bed with me. But there’s no way I can eat gracefully while balancing a plate on my lap, and I don’t want to make a mess for housekeeping to wash. So I get up and head over to the table.
She sets the food in front of me and takes the other chair. “It’s baked cod with a crumbled cracker crust and some balsamic-glazed green beans. I figured you wouldn’t want anything too heavy this late.”
“It looks delicious,” I tell her, picking up the fork to take a bite. The fish is tender and buttery, practically melting in my mouth. “So good. Thank you.”
“No big deal,” she says. Then she laughs. “It’s a good thing Danny was distracted on his phone at the desk. I can’t believe I managed to sneak past him twice.”
“Would you be in trouble for bringing this up to me?” The last thing I want is to get her in trouble.
She shakes her head. “No, of course not. I just don’t feel like having anyone prying into why I was doing it. People here are too nosy.”
“Oh, right.” I should probably be concerned about the staff asking why Addison is coming up to my room as well. But I know Brenden warned everyone to be discreet, and I can’t see anyone from Mayweather violating my privacy by going to the tabloids with gossip.
The only thing I really need to worry about is another guest catching us who doesn’t have the same Mayweather sense of loyalty.
But it’s hard to worry about anything while I’m eating good food after a fantastic orgasm, and the woman who provided me with both is sitting two feet away, smiling at me.
It should be awkward that she’s watching me eat, but it’s not.
I’m starting to realize she feels a sense of pride in feeding people.
Maybe, more particularly, with people she cares about? I won’t be bold enough to assume she cares about me like that, though. I don’t want to read too much into this. I’m probably not special to her. Even if she makes me feel that way.
When I finish, I thank her again, and now I’m not sure what to do.
She stands, clearing her throat. “I guess I should get going...”
The way she says this, slowly and without making a move toward the door, seems to leave room for me to disagree.
“You shouldn’t have to drive home late after you worked a long day. You could, um, stay. Here. With me.”
It’s flimsy reasoning, because I know the drive to her house is very short, but it feels safer than coming out and telling her how much I want her to stay.
She doesn’t let me get away with it, of course.
“Do you want me to stay?” she asks, smiling in that way that makes it easy for me to trust her. To admit what I want.
“Yes.”
Her smile grows as she steps around the table and takes my hand, helping me stand. “Then I will,” she says.
So yeah. I guess we’re really doing this.
Taking in her outfit, I frown. “You can’t sleep in those shorts. I’ll find you something else to wear.”
I rifle through the dresser drawer where I keep my pajamas. Her hips are wider than mine, so I’m afraid most of my shorts will be too small for her. But I snag a pair that’s a little looser and longer on me and hope for the best.
She thanks me when she takes them, and then she stands there a few moments, shifting her weight from one hip to the other. It’s kind of a relief to see her looking less confident all of a sudden. It lets me know that I’m not alone in wondering what this is and what to do now.
Finally, she clears her throat again and says, “I’ll just, uh.” She gestures toward the bathroom, and I nod.
It hits me again that she’s seen me naked, while I haven’t gotten to see her. But I’m certainly not going to demand she undress in front of me so I can check her out.
I go to bed and slip under the covers while she changes behind the closed door.
When she comes out and sees me, she smiles.
God, those smiles. They do funny things to me.
She gets in on the other side of the bed, leaving space between us.
I roll over to face her, and she scoots closer, taking my hand and holding it against the mattress.
“Hey,” she says.
I giggle. “Hey.”
She lets go of my hand only to reach out and touch my face, tracing her fingers along my cheekbone. Then she moves in even closer until I can feel her body heat and we’re sharing a pillow. Her kiss is sweet and seems to promise something.
I’m not sure exactly what the promise is, but I know whatever she’s offering me, I want to take it.
We don’t do anything more than kiss and hold each other, not letting things get heated the way they did before.
We let our bodies wind down until we’re tired enough to sleep.
And when I close my eyes, I can still picture her face smiling at me.
Then I feel the light weight of her hand on my hip, a warm, gentle reassurance that this night was real.